


Fitz and the Impressive Physique

by callay



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mack's Impressive Physique, Manhandling, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callay/pseuds/callay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Fitz is really into Mack's body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fitz and the Impressive Physique

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after 2x05 "A Hen in the Wolf House", and references, obviously, Fitz and head!Simmons' discussion of Mack's physique.
> 
> I treat the current Fitzsimmons issues very flippantly in this fic, which I feel bad about. It's for the slash. Maybe I'm right, Fitz and Simmons will make up, and Simmons will start shipping Fitz/Mack - that's what I would do if I were writing the show!

Fitz and Simmons stay up late.

They’re both determined to mend things between them. It’s awkward at first, but by the time they’re each on their third mug of tea, things feel almost normal.

Having exhausted serious topics, they’re having a heated discussion about Bobbi Morse. Fitz is insisting that she must have a dark side given how Hunter talks about her, and he’s barely stumbling at all, but then all of a sudden he just stops. 

Simmons looks at him for a moment, concerned, and then turns to follow his eyes and lets out a little gasp of surprise.

Fitz would have gasped too, but his lungs don’t seem to be working. There, in the door to the kitchen, is Mack.

Naked.

Not naked, Fitz amends quickly. Mack is wearing black boxers. And nothing else.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” says Mack, eyeing Fitz and Simmons sitting at the table. “Just getting a glass of water, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

There’s a short pause. Fitz is aware that both Simmons and Mack are waiting for him to say something, but he can’t talk. Mack’s appearance feels like a blow to the chest, and Fitz can’t breathe, can only stare.

Mack is taking up the entire doorway. He’s all wide shoulders, curving down into thick biceps and veined forearms, and his _chest_. Broad pectorals dusted with black hair, and two dark nipples, and then there’s his stomach, clearly defined abs making a track down to the waist of his boxers.

It makes Fitz’s stomach twist just looking at him. He feels it like a sudden hunger, too strong to be pushed down, the desire to touch Mack. Just to curl his hand around the flex of Mack’s arm, or trace the ridges of his abs, or plant both hands on his pecs and feel the heat of his skin, which shines under the kitchen light.

Fitz bites his lip because he shouldn’t be thinking this. And maybe if he had had time to steel himself he’d have been fine. But his guard had been down, Mack showed up looking like _that_ , and now here Fitz is, heat rushing to his face, so distracted he barely hears Simmons say, “Not to worry. We didn’t realize how late it had gotten, did we, Fitz?”

Fitz tries to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and say something, but he can’t quite manage it. Mack smiles at him anyway, his wide friendly grin, and Fitz’s heart skips a beat.

Luckily Mack turns away from them then, moving to the cabinet. And that does mean that Fitz can see his back, the pull and shift of muscle as he reaches up for a glass, and the way his boxers hang off the curve of his ass. But at the very least, _Mack_ can’t see Fitz, and the way he’s blushing from his neck to his hairline.

“We should get to bed soon,” Simmons is saying. “Will you help catch me up on what’s going on in the lab tomorrow, Mack?”

“Sure thing,” says Mack over his shoulder, filling up his glass at the sink. “Fitz is the real mastermind, though.”

Fitz ducks his head, heart pounding. Mack says stuff like that a lot, and usually it makes him feel good, but in his current mood it’s making his stomach do flips.

“You can show me together,” says Simmons brightly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Mack turns around and smiles at them. “Sounds good. Well, night, you two.”

“Goodnight,” says Simmons, and Fitz nods in a way he can only desperately hope is friendly.

And then Mack leaves, and it’s like the sun setting in the desert – a disappointment, but a relief at the same time, because Fitz can _breathe_ again. 

Simmons is still looking at the door. “Well, he certainly has an impressive physique,” she whispers.

Fitz starts. “What?”

“I think he has an impressive physique,” repeats Simmons. Then, catching Fitz staring wide-eyed at her: “What’s wrong?”

“You already – um.” Fitz gestures at Simmons for a moment before finding the words. “My subconscious version of you. Already said that.”

“Oh,” says Simmons, tilting her head a little. She’d said she understood when Fitz had, haltingly, mentioned his visions of her. But it must be strange, thinks Fitz with a rush of embarrassment.

And then Simmons puts two and two together. “Um, Fitz, if it was your subconscious, doesn’t that mean that _you_ noticed Mack’s impressive physique?“

“Well, it’s a bit hard not to notice,” mutters Fitz, looking away.

“You like him!” says Simmons in amazement.

“Well of course I _like_ him, he’s a great guy,” says Fitz stubbornly. Because this isn’t his fake Simmons, it’s real Simmons, and she doesn’t know his mind. She could be jumping to the wrong conclusions.

But she isn’t, of course. It’s obvious in the way his heart’s been beating hard since Mack came in here, the way his stomach swoops at the thought of him.

“Fitz!” exclaims Simmons, swatting his arm. “I can’t believe it!”

“There’s nothing to believe,” says Fitz, but he can’t help the smile tugging at his lips at Simmons’ enthusiasm.

“I could _never_ have predicted this,” says Simmons.

And Fitz couldn’t have, either. He still can’t think about it directly, but he keeps poking it in his head: Mack is attractive. He’s attracted to Mack. The problem isn’t that Mack is male, exactly, because Fitz has always liked both men and women in theory. It’s that he thought he’d spend the rest of his life thinking about a tiny, pale, decidedly female person. To have his brain suddenly full of Mack, huge, muscular, very male Mack, it’s – alarming.

But _good_ , he thinks, seeing Mack in his mind’s eye, broad-shouldered and bare-chested and smiling at him.

 

***

 

He has to revise his opinion back to alarming the next day. He and Mack are explaining the lab’s recent projects to Simmons, and for all Mack is wearing a long-sleeved plaid shirt that doesn’t show much skin, Fitz can’t stop thinking about his body.

He keeps going red and stuttering, and Mack ends up doing most of the talking. Mack and Simmons both give him understanding looks, Simmons’ perhaps more understanding in this case. Luckily it’s Saturday and nobody else is around to see what a mess he is.

All too soon, Simmons has to go and Fitz and Mack are alone.

 _Get it together_ , Fitz tells himself, grimacing. Mack’s the same person he was before Fitz saw him almost naked. Nothing needs to change. They had a really good thing here, and Fitz is not going to give it up.

“Turbo?”

“Yeah?” answers Fitz, too fast.

“You okay?” Mack’s looking at him, concern in his deep brown eyes.

“Fine,” says Fitz, turning away, but Mack takes his arm and gently turns him back.

“You don’t seem fine.”

Fitz doesn’t say anything. Mack’s hand on his arm is warm, and he shouldn’t get worked up over just that, but he can’t help it. Heat works its way up his neck onto his cheeks.

“You can tell me, you know,” says Mack, and Fitz thinks, _No, I can’t_ , and then Mack goes on. “After working with Hunter so long, I’m pretty much the expert of hearing relationship problems. And ex problems. Everything.”

Fitz is surprised enough to let out a gasp of a laugh. “No, that’s – Simmons and I are fine, actually.”

“Yeah? Because you seemed a little upset last night.”

Fitz looks up into Mack’s face, symmetric and handsome and open and patient. His instinct is to tell Mack everything, that Mack will understand, and he opens his mouth, but he realizes he can’t tell Mack this without making everything weird, and he shuts his mouth again.

So Mack goes on. “Or, not upset so much as _overwhelmed_? Am I right?”

Overwhelmed – yes, that’s the word. Kind of like what he’s feeling now, heart pounding under Mack’s touch and his scrutiny, and usually Mack’s perceptiveness is helpful but at the moment it feels dangerous.

“Hey, Turbo, it’s fine. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” And Mack rubs his hand down Fitz’s arm, comfortingly, except in the state Fitz is in it sends sparks all up and down him and he shivers, eyes closing.

Mack notices.

Fitz freezes, heat surging into his face.

“Last night, that didn’t have something to do with me showing up in my underwear, did it?” asks Mack, quietly. There’s the hint of a smile at the corner of his eyes.

Fitz wants to deny it but he can’t _lie_ to Mack and the words spill out before he can stop them. “You just, um, you have a very impressive physique.”

Mack’s mouth quirks up. “Oh yeah?”

Fitz’s face is burning. “You must get that a lot,” he tries, like it’s a joke.

Mack’s grin lights up his whole face. “Sometimes,” he says. “But not very often from handsome Scottish geniuses who I thought were straight until now.”

Oh.

Fitz stares up at Mack, wide-eyed, heart lurching.

He’s panicking a little because he doesn't know what to do next. It’s Mack, though, and he’s used to explaining to Mack what’s wrong, so he says that, all in a rush, voice a little squeaky: “I don’t know what to do.”

“How’s this?” Mack asks him, and then he takes Fitz’s head in both hands and kisses him.

It’s a short kiss, brief hard pressure of their mouths together, but Fitz’s stomach does a flip at the feeling, heart rate speeding up. Instantly he wants more. When Mack tries to pull back Fitz follows him, clinging to his shirt, pressing their mouths together again.

Mack immediately reverses course and leans in again. It’s hard for Fitz to believe, that this is happening, that Mack wants to kiss him, but the evidence is overwhelming. Mack's lips are soft, sliding perfectly against Fitz’s as Mack tilts his head. Fitz tilts the other way, using his grip on Mack’s shirt to pull himself up hard against Mack’s mouth, and then both of their mouths are open and their tongues meet.

Mack kisses gently but insistently, all hot probing tongue, especially when he gets a hand around the back of Fitz’s head and holds him still. Fitz, head spinning, lets him do what he wants, lets Mack erase with the sweep of his tongue the few kisses Fitz has had before, until this is all new, a delicious experiment in rhythm and pressure and the shape of them fitting together.

Fitz’s hands tangle restlessly in Mack’s shirt, and Mack wraps an arm around Fitz’s back and presses him in close, up against the warmth of Mack’s body. There’s an urgent heat developing between them, mounting with every brush and slide of their tongues. Fitz loves it.

It’s several long, breathless moments before Mack eventually pulls away. Fitz misses the feeling of his mouth immediately, tries to keep kissing him, but he can’t _reach_. He stares up at Mack, peeved.

“You okay there, Turbo?” asks Mack, hand moving to stroke Fitz’s cheek. His thumb feels rough and pleasantly cool on Fitz’s flushed skin.

“No,” says Fitz, because his body is very clear on the fact that not kissing Mack is not okay at all. Then, seeing Mack’s eyebrows rising in concern, he amends, “Well, _yes_ , I just –“

He stops, doesn’t know how to put “I need your tongue in my mouth all the time from now on” in reasonable terms.

Mack’s watching him patiently. “Please kiss me,” Fitz blurts finally.

Mack grins at that and leans down to oblige. Fitz meets him eagerly, quickly slipping into the same rhythm of lips and tongue.

Then, suddenly, Mack’s hands slide down to his ass. Fitz jumps, and tries to decide how to react, but he doesn’t have time because Mack, without even appearing to make an effort, lifts him off the ground.

Fitz lets out a squeak of surprise and clutches instinctively at Mack. His legs go around Mack’s waist. And okay, this kind of works: held up like this, Mack’s hands under his thighs, he’s eye-to-eye with Mack.

And also, his cock is pressed against Mack’s stomach.

A blush rises on his cheeks at the thought and the _feeling_ of it. He’s hard, has been since the beginning, and even though he’s still trapped awkwardly in his pants it feels good to be up against the warmth of Mack’s body. He bites his lip at the shock of desire, wants to be skin to skin, Mack’s hand on him, or – to feel _Mack’s_ cock –

He ducks his head to Mack’s shoulder, suddenly overwhelmed, frantic heartbeat rushing in his ears.

“Hey there, Turbo,” says Mack, sounding amused. But then, turning to kiss the side of Fitz’s forehead, he hesitates. “You okay? Are we going too fast?”

It’s hard not to go too fast when it’s all new, and Fitz can’t deny the nerves jangling in his stomach. But they’re far overruled by the excitement of this, the eager hunger of his body. Fitz _wants this_ , wants Mack. The fact that it’s Mack, who he knows he can trust, goes a long way towards easing the nerves.

He takes a deep, shaky breath and sits up to look into Mack’s eyes. “This is good.”

“Like ‘we can go further’ good?” asks Mack.

Fitz can’t deny the twist of excitement in his stomach at the thought. He nods, then catches himself. “Can it be somewhere a bit more –“

“Private?” says Mack, nodding in agreement. “Good thought, Turbo.”

 

***

 

They make it quickly to Mack’s room.

Single-mindedly, Mack closes the door, sits down on the bed, and pulls Fitz into his lap. Before Fitz can adjust to his new position, Mack is kissing him.

That, Fitz can adjust to. He wraps his hands around Mack’s shoulders and kisses back enthusiastically. For all they’ve done this a lot, it’s not getting old at all, each slide and press of their mouths sending a rush of pleasure through Fitz. And he likes being on Mack’s lap, too, Mack solid under him and against his chest.

Mack’s hands find their way to the front of Fitz’s shirt and start unbuttoning. It sparks a shock of excitement in Fitz, because he wants to have their shirts gone, he wants to see Mack’s body again, to _touch_ it – 

He feels for Mack’s buttons and tries to open them.

He can’t. His fingers keep twitching off the buttons, and it doesn’t help that his heart is beating like a drum and his hands are sweaty, and he can’t even get a single button through the hole.

He pulls away from the kiss with a gasp of frustration and sits there panting, hands in fists against Mack’s chest.

Mack is just finishing Fitz’s buttons, and he takes one look at Fitz’s face and figures out what’s going on. He wraps his hands around Fitz’s and pulls them to his shirt, and they do it together. Unbuttoning is hardly a two-person job, but Mack makes it work somehow, holding the shirt steady as Fitz works the button through.

Fitz is still gritting his teeth at having trouble with such a stupid thing, but as they go it gets easier. Fitz starts to speed up, especially when Mack’s shirt starts to fall open and show his chest. He gets the last few buttons free and pushes Mack’s shirt off, and Mack does the same for him.

And then he doesn’t care about the buttons anymore, he doesn’t even care that he probably looks pale and scrawny, because Mack’s chest is as magnificent as he remembers. He presses his hands to Mack, feels the softness of his skin over the firm curves of his muscles, and starts to trace the contours of his body.

There’s something deep and instinctive about Fitz’s desire for this, about the rush that goes through him when he feels the flex and shift of Mack’s muscles. But his heart is still pounding with the knowledge that this is _Mack_ , his Mack, and he’s thrilling also at the gentle way Mack is touching him, running his hands up Fitz’s back. His head is spinning with it all, lust and affection both burning hot in him.

“So what’s the plan, Turbo?” Mack asks, hands hot on Fitz’s sides.

“I don’t know,” says Fitz, shaking his head. He only spent one night letting himself fantasize about Mack, and most of that ended with what they’re doing now. Anything on top of this would be amazing.

“Well, what do you want?”

“You,” answers Fitz, almost shyly, even though that much must be obvious by now.

Mack leans forward and kisses his forehead, then takes him by the chin and tilts his face up so their eyes meet. “I guessed that much, Turbo, but _how_ do you want me?”

 _Every way possible_ , stutters Fitz’s heart. But he – he probably doesn’t even _know_ all the possible ways. He’s ridiculously out of his depth, and the only thing he has to cling to is Mack.

“Can you keep deciding?” he asks carefully.

“Sure,” says Mack, giving Fitz a soft kiss.

When he pulls back, though, his eyes are intense, and his voice drops as he says, “I do have some good ideas of what I want to do to you.”

A slow shudder of need runs up Fitz’s body, through his aching cock and his pounding heart. _Do them then_ , he thinks, squeezing Mack’s biceps.

“Say if you want me to stop, okay? Or smack me. Either way.”

“Okay,” says Fitz faintly, anticipation buzzing in his veins.

And in one smooth motion, Mack picks him up by the hips, swings him around, and lays him down on the bed. He makes quick work of the rest of Fitz’s clothes, leaving Fitz bare and shivering in the cool air.

And then Mack’s hands are on him, starting at his chest, big enough that his spread fingers span Fitz’s torso. He slides them slowly down, over Fitz’s ribs and his stomach. By the time Mack reaches his abdomen, Fitz is already gasping, rolling his body up into the rough pressure of Mack’s touch.

Mack’s hands come to a stop on his hips, and Fitz can’t help going up on an elbow to look, like he can will them to touch his cock with his eyes, because oh, he needs it. The tingling sensation of Mack’s hands on his skin has all gathered low in his belly, and he needs _more_ , he can feel the need pulsing in his cock –

But instead Mack’s hands slide away, curling around under his ass. Fitz likes that, the way Mack’s hands fit perfectly on him, but right now it’s not what he needs. He falls back against the bed, frustrated. He _trusts_ Mack, but he can’t help the burn of want pounding through his veins –

And then Mack leans down and licks a long wet stripe up the length of Fitz’s cock.

Fitz makes an embarrassingly high-pitched sound and his hands fist in the sheets. And Mack doesn’t give him a chance to recover, just bends further to catch Fitz’s cock in his mouth.

It’s all wet heat around him and Fitz’s back arches, hips pushing instinctively up. It feels unbelievable, and he can’t believe it’s happening – and then all of a sudden, he really doesn’t know what’s happening, because Mack sits up, straightening his back and pulling Fitz’s hips with him.

Suddenly Fitz is mostly in the air, hips supported by Mack but his torso arcing down to the bed, and he can’t even get his bearings because Mack’s mouth is still hot around him. Mack has total control over him, tilting his hips to push every inch of him into Mack’s mouth, and all Fitz can do is squirm and press his heels into Mack’s back.

Fitz takes a gasping breath, trying and failing to process this. Everything around his cock is soft and wet, Mack’s _tongue_ , sliding against the length of him, Mack’s lips firm around the base. Pleasure’s spilling through his whole body, arcing down his spine to tingle on his scalp, in his fingertips. The position is making his head spin, making him feel like the only solid point is Mack’s hands and mouth, making him feel like he’s at Mack’s mercy.

Mack’s head is bent over Fitz’s cock, but he glances at Fitz through his lashes, and Fitz is struck by the teasing glint in his eyes. It seems wildly unfair, he thinks, that Mack should have the power to make him _helpless_ like this, to manhandle him into awkward positions and reduce him to squirming and gasping. 

But it’s amazing, Fitz thinks desperately, and shudders as Mack’s tongue traces along his cock.

And then Mack starts moving, tilting Fitz’s hips away and pulling back so Fitz’s cock slides out of his mouth, slowly. He sucks as he does it, perfect pressure all around Fitz, lips dragging slowly up. It’s a slow flood of pleasure, too much and not enough all at once, but Fitz can’t do anything but twist helplessly in midair, hands clutching the sheets.

The feeling of that is still ricocheting through Fitz’s body when Mack raises his hips again and sucks Fitz back into his mouth, deep into the heat of it, letting the head of Fitz’s cock slide against the roof of his mouth. Fitz arches further off the bed, gasping.

Mack sets a rhythm, Fitz’s cock sliding in and out of Mack’s mouth, Fitz’s hips rolling in Mack’s hands, and there’s nothing in Fitz’s world but that.

It’s all so much more intense than anything he’s felt before, Mack’s mouth, his hands, the whole situation. Fitz wouldn’t have the words to describe it, but he doesn’t have to, just _feels_ it, lets the sensations roll over him.

There’s white-hot pleasure building in him as Mack moves him and moves around him, spreading throughout his whole body, buzzing in his veins and making his skin feel tight and hot. Yet it’s also excruciatingly focused, in his abdomen and balls and he – he can’t –

He tries to say something but all he can manage is “Mack –“

“Mmm,” replies Mack, and Fitz can feel the vibration of it, and that’s it.

He comes harder than he ever has before, so hard that he sees stars, so hard that his back arches until his shoulders are almost off the bed, and he feels himself pulsing into Mack’s mouth for a long, long time.

Finally he’s finished, and Mack sets him down on the bed, hands gentle. He settles down next to him, leaning on one elbow, looking down at Fitz. His smile is decidedly smug.

“You okay, Turbo?”

“I think so,” answers Fitz, blinking up at him. His body’s still tingling, his heart’s still beating hard, and he feels better than he has for a long time.

He looks up into Mack’s eyes and smiles. “Thank you, Mack, that was, um –“

“Mind-blowing?” provides Mack, grinning.

Fitz laughs. “Mind-blowing. Yeah, pretty much.”

Laughing, Mack grabs Fitz and rolls them both over, so that Fitz is lying on top of him. And this is good, Mack solid and stable under him, chest pushing up with each breath, arms folding around Fitz. They kiss, gently.

Fitz flattens his hands against Mack’s chest. Mack’s skin is warm and firm, his muscles perfectly shaped. Maybe Fitz should be over this by now, he thinks, but he’s not. Mack’s body still makes him feel amazed and breathless, and on impulse he pulls away from Mack’s mouth to kiss at his collarbone.

Mack gives a pleased hum, stroking his back, and Fitz shifts lower to kiss down the center of Mack’s chest.

And oh, when he moves he can feel Mack’s cock, hard against his leg. Very hard.

He starts and looks up at Mack. Mack raises his eyebrows, teasing, but there’s something dark and hungry in his eyes.

Fitz’s heart speeds up again and he swallows a shock of nerves. His pulse is pounding with the desire to see Mack’s cock, to _touch_ it –

He sits up and moves backwards on the bed until he’s straddling Mack’s thighs. From here, he has a perfect view of Mack, shining and muscled like a statue. Mack, grinning, puts his hands behind his head, and his torso is breathtaking.

“You gonna stare or you gonna touch me?” asks Mack, pushing up with his hips, and Fitz follows the roll of Mack’s abdomen with his eyes, all the way down. There, directly in front of Fitz, is the shape of Mack’s cock, straining against his pants.

Fitz is blushing, but he reaches for Mack’s fly, resolute. He fumbles for a moment and finally he gets the button and zipper open. Mack lifts his hips, raising Fitz in the process, and with effort Fitz tugs down Mack’s pants and boxers.

Mack’s cock springs free, curving against his stomach, long and thick. Looking it at sends a sharp twist of desire right through Fitz.

“Oh,” says Fitz, staring.

“Alright, come on,” says Mack, so Fitz reaches out and touches him.

Mack’s cock feels hot and silky-smooth in his hand. He strokes up the length of it, feeling the skin pull slightly under his hand, then back down, thumbing the thick vein on the underside. 

“Yeah,” breathes Mack, voice hoarse in a way that brings a new flush of heat to Fitz’s face. So Fitz keeps going, sliding gently up and down, figuring out the shape of it. 

When he starts to speed up, he can feel friction starting under his palm, and Mack speaks up. “Hang on one sec, Turbo.”

Mack goes up on an elbow to reach into the nightstand drawer, then tosses Fitz a bottle of lotion. Awkwardly Fitz catches it and squeezes some into his palm.

He curls his hand around Mack again and slides up. He focuses on spreading the lotion, using both hands to cover Mack’s length, and he hears Mack’s breath catch. 

He looks up, and Mack’s eyes are wide and dark, his expression intense. “Keep going,” says Mack, voice rough.

Fitz does, stroking both hands up Mack’s cock, one after the other, and everything feels slick and perfect now, and when he looks down Mack’s skin is shining wetly. He feels a hot twist of desire and he speeds up the slide of his hands.

He doesn’t know exactly what to do, but this seems to be working. Mack’s body starts to move with him, hips lifting to meet each stroke, as Fitz finds a rhythm: fast but not frantic, squeezing just a little.

The only sound is their breathing, hard and erratic, and the wet sounds of Fitz’s hands moving on Mack’s cock. And that shouldn’t turn Fitz on, the messy sound of it, but it does. He loves everything about this, he thinks desperately: Mack sweaty and gorgeous beneath him, Mack’s cock hard and hot and slick in his hands.

A shudder runs through him as he thinks about it, and his hand twists on Mack’s cock. Mack groans at that, a low gritty sound that hits Fitz like a blow. Heart pounding at the idea that he’s doing this to Mack, he twists again, turning his wrist on the upstroke. Mack groans again, and then Fitz twists both hands around him in opposite directions, and Mack says, “Oh, that’s it, Turbo, fuck.”

Heart hammering, Fitz keeps it up, moving both hands up and down in unison but twisting as he goes. Mack’s whole body is rocking into it now, shoulders curling up in counterpoint to the push of his hips, head thrown back and showing the tendons of his neck. His muscles are tensing in waves and Fitz can see it, watches the planes of Mack’s body shift and tighten.

It’s stunning to watch, and Fitz wants to say something about how amazing Mack looks in this moment, but all he manages is a low gasp of, “Mack,” and then Mack tenses all over and his cock throbs in Fitz’s hands and he’s coming, striping white across the perfect expanse of his stomach and chest.

Fitz watches, heart in his throat, and keeps stroking gently until finally Mack swats his hands aside. “Come here,” says Mack, and Fitz does, lying back down on top of Mack, not caring about the mess.

Mack reaches for his face and goes to pull him in, but stops as Fitz squirms forward, erection pressing into Mack’s stomach. “How are you hard again?” he asks, looking impressed.

Fitz blushes. “It’s – you were just –“

He doesn’t know how to explain the feelings surging in his heart. How gorgeous and perfect Mack is, and how amazing it feels to experience all this, to be wanted, to be capable of making Mack feel good.

“It’s your impressive physique,” he says instead, grinning, and Mack snorts, and gathers Fitz to him, and kisses him soundly.


End file.
